An Evening at the Taylors'
by MacsLady
Summary: Set in the same AU as 'Accidents', 'Bad Dreams' and 'Homecoming' - an evening at home with Mac and his family.


**An Evening at the Taylors'**

**Disclaimer: All characters from the show belong to the writers. Spongebob and Babo belong to their respective creators. **

**Notes: This fic is set in the same AU as 'Accidents', 'Bad Dreams', and 'Homecoming' in which Claire didn't die on 9/11 and she and Mac live in New York with their son, Zack, aged 8, and daughter Aidan, aged 1.**

Mac stepped through the front door and closed it behind him. He hung his jacket in the closet. Down the hall, he could hear Aidan crying. Claire came out of Aidan's room, holding the one-year-old against her chest, trying to soothe her. Mac instantly noticed the exhaustion in Claire's eyes, and the slump of her shoulders. She looked tired and frazzled, but on seeing him, managed a smile.

'Hey, I'm glad you're home,' she said.

Mac covered the space between them in seconds, a rush of warmth and love filling him. He leaned in and kissed Claire softly.

'Rough day?'

Claire just nodded.

'So much for a relaxing day off with the kids. Aidan's running a fever, and Zack got sent home from school for fighting with another boy. He's really upset, but refuses to tell me why he got into the fight. The principal told me he gave this other kid a bloody nose, but wouldn't tell her why he hit the kid, either.'

Mac frowned in concern for both of his children. He hated seeing his kids sick or hurt or unhappy. He wondered what could have caused Zack to hit another child. He'd never really been in trouble at school before. His teachers had mentioned he had something of a mischievous streak, but he was a good student and seemed to get on well with other kids and teachers.

'Here, let me take Aidan for a while. You go and run yourself a bath and relax for a while, okay? You've earned it. I'll do dinner as well.'

Claire took in her husband's tired face. It was August, and she knew his workload always kicked off with the arrival of the summer heat.

'Are you sure?'

'Absolutely,' Mac said, taking a still-sobbing Aidan from her arms and kissing her again.

'I love you,' Claire said, smiling at him.

'I love you too,' Mac said. 'Have we got any medicine for Aidan?'

'There's some baby Tylenol I picked up at the pharmacy in the kitchen,' Claire called over her shoulder before closing the bathroom door behind her.

'Hey there, beautiful,' Mac said, gently stroking Aidan's back, 'Are you feeling yucky?'

Aidan's sobs continued as her tiny hands clutched at Mac's shirt collar.

He carried her into the kitchen, and found the baby Tylenol. After about ten minutes, during which a good deal of the medicine ended up on his shirt and Aidan's face, he managed to get the right dose into her.

He carried her through to the living room and sat on the couch with her. He gently wiped her face with a baby wipe. He could feel the heat of her skin, and concern flared through him. Holding her so she rested in the crook of his arm, he picked up her cuddly Babo Uglydoll from the floor with his free hand. Holding Babo just in front of Aidan, he waved him around so that he looked like he was dancing, and sang 'The Wheels on the Bus', adding in a few substitutions - so that the 'Aidans on the bus go up and down' instead of the children, and adding a line about 'the Babos on the bus eat lots of cookies.' The singing, the moving soft toy, along with Aidan's pure exhaustion, and the medicine, soon took effect, and her sobs died away until she fell asleep against Mac's chest.

He spent a few minutes just gazing down at his daughter. The love he felt for her filled his chest with warmth. There was such simplicity and pureness in just holding her like this. Out there, there was violence and death, but here, now, Mac felt safe from it all, felt the burden of responsibility that came with his job and all it's stresses and strains drop away from him. Careful not to wake Aidan, he stood up and carried her through to her room, laying her in her crib and putting Babo next to her. He kissed her forehead, then left her room, half-closing the door behind him, so he would be able to hear her cries easily if she woke up. He went to the door of Zack's room and knocked on the closed door.

'Zack? It's Daddy. Can I come in?'

'Yes, Daddy,' came Zack's rather subdued voice.

Mac opened the door and found his son lying on his bed, looking miserable. The knuckles of his right hand were bruised and scraped, and he had a plaster on his elbow. Given that Claire had mentioned the other kid had a bloody nose, it seemed Zack had won the fight, and despite himself, Mac felt a surge of pride. He sat next to Zack on the bed.

'So, your Mom tells me you got into a fight today.'

'Yeah,' Zack said, his green eyes shooting a cautious glance at Mac from underneath his mop of dark curls, assessing his father's face for signs of anger.

'You want to tell me why?'

Zack paused, then said,

'Am I going to get in trouble?'

'You already got in trouble at school. As for your Mom and me, well, we'll have to think about it. If you tell me why you hit the other boy, it might help.'

Zack's cheeks flushed.

'He's a stupid, mean, poo-head,' he said, anger in his voice.

'Who?' Mac asked softly.

'Billy Jones.'

'And why is Billy a stupid, mean, poo-head?' Mac asked patiently.

'He...he pushed Katie over. On purpose. He's always being mean to her, but she doesn't want to tell Miss Jenkins, and it's not fair.'

'So, Billy is mean to Katie?' Mac said.

'Yeah. Before it was just like pushing past her in the cafeteria line, or in the hall, or knocking her things off her desk, but today he pushed her over in the playground and was laughing at her. I told him 'Leave her alone, poo-head' and he said 'What you gonna do, get your Daddy to arrest me?' and I said 'No, I'll hit you,' and then he pushed me and said, 'Go on then, Zacky boy, hit me,' So we had a fight, and I punched him in the nose and he cried and ran away.'

Mac just managed to keep a smile off his face. He knew he shouldn't, but he was sneakily pleased that Zack had gotten into a fight to defend someone else, and to challenge something he thought was wrong. And that he had quite easily, it seemed, defeated the bully.

'Why didn't you tell anyone this?'

Zack shrugged and turned an even deeper shade of red.

'I didn't...didn't want anyone to think...to know that one reason I hit him is because I...because I kinda, sorta, maybe like Katie. She's nice. Even if she's a girl, and a lot of girls are icky.'

Mac allowed the smile to spread across his face this time.

He remembered clearly when he had been Zack's age, and just starting to realize that girls just *maybe* weren't all that icky, and that some of them were quite nice, though he, like Zack, would never have willingly admitted to any such feelings. He remembered too the keen sense of injustice he'd felt as a kid, and how he too, one more than one occasion, had gotten into fights in defence of other kids.

'Come here, Zack,' Mac said, opening his arms.

Zack moved closer to Mac and nestled his head against his shoulder, snuggling against him. Mac held him close, and kissed the top of his head.

'Zack, I know it's easy to lose your temper when you come up against mean kids like Billy Jones. I think Billy deserved to have someone stand up to him. But you know it's not really right to hit people, don't you?'

'Even if they deserve it?' Zack asked.

'Even then,' Mac said.

Zack nodded.

'I guess,' he said. 'I just wanted him to stop being mean to her.'

'I know you did, little guy, ' Mac said.

'I'm sorry I got in a fight, Daddy. I just go so *mad*' Zack said.

'I know,' Mac said, 'I get really mad at people too sometimes.'

They sat in silence for a moment, then Mac said,

'It's nearly 8:30. Why don't you get into your pyjamas, and I'll read you a story?'

Zack got into his pyjamas and curled up beside Mac on the bed. He picked a storybook, and Mac read it to him, then tucked him into bed, switched on his Spongebob night light, and closed his bedroom door behind him. He went into his and Claire's room and quickly changed into more casual, comfortable clothes, As he stepped back into the hall, Claire stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of comfy slacks and one of Mac's old Marine t-shirts. She looked refreshed, and when she walked up to him and kissed him, he could smell her shower gel and shampoo.

'Wow, you got them both down. I'm impressed, Detective.'

Mac smiled, and took her hand, leading her into the kitchen.

'You want some help with dinner? I feel better now, I don't mind...' Claire began. Mac leaned down and silenced her with a brief soft kiss.

'Nope,' he said, 'I told you, I'm making dinner.'

He lead her to their small table and sat her down.

'Beer, wine, or root beer?' he asked.

'Root beer,' Claire said.

She grinned as she watched him cross to the fridge, and remove a bottle of root beer. He put ice in a glass and poured the soda over it, bringing the glass over to her.

She watched as he proceeded to make them a quick pasta with some sort of herby, tomato-y sauce that smelled amazing. Claire couldn't help thinking how *good* he looked in his faded black t-shirt, with the sleeves snugging just so around his forearms, and his oldest, comfiest, tattiest jeans which hung just right on his still-trim hips. As he carried over two steaming plates of the pasta, Claire felt a powerful rush of attraction and love for him.

He placed the plate in front of her and sat opposite her.

'What?' he asked.

'You. You're a very hot man, Detective.'

Mac blushed slightly and waved away his wife's compliment.

'So I found out why Zack got in that fight,' he said, changing the subject.

'Why? Mac, this pasta's amazing.'

Mac told her the story Zack had told him. Claire sniggered.

'Just like his old man,' she said.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Mac asked, a little grumpily, though he knew the answer.

'How many times have you gone after some stupid suspect who's insulted me in interrogation? And remember, you've told me you often got into fights just like Zack's when you were a kid. He's inherited that hot temper of yours. The temper'll be a problem, but it's sweet that he wanted to stand up for another kid. He's got that keen sense of injustice from you, too.'

Mac allowed himself to grin sheepishly.

'I know. Somehow, I don't think this'll be his last fight.' he said.

'Given that he seems to be taking after you in the temper department, I agree,' Claire teased.

Mac pulled a face at her.

For the rest of the meal, they chatted about work, and their plans to get together with Jo and her kids for a day out - Ellie and Tyler were both fond of Zack and Aidan, who were crazy about them in return, as well as having Don Flack over for dinner - the kids adored Don, who was godfather to both of them.

Once the meal was over, Mac insisted on washing up.

'But you took care of the kids and made dinner,' Claire protested, feeling a little guilty, but really quite enjoying Mac's taking care of her like this.

'You had them all day,' Mac said, 'You deserve a night off,'

He picked up the plates and leaned down to kiss her, then moved over to the sink,

Claire watched him as she finished her root beer.

In his casual clothes and bare feet, with his arms up to the elbow in soapy water, he looked even hotter than before. Claire rose and crossed the kitchen to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and snugged up against his back, kissing the back of his neck. She rested one hand just above the waistband of his jeans, flattening her other hand on his chest.

'You can leave those dishes for a while,' she said into his ear. 'I have other plans for you right now.'

Mac felt desire rush through him at her touch and seductive tone, and grinned.

He turned suddenly and pulled Claire tight to him, making her squeal in surprise.

'Mac! Your arms are all soapy and wet!' she protested.

Mac gave her a mischievous, wicked grin, then leaned down to kiss her deeply and passionately. Claire responded with equal passion, then pulled back slightly, took Mac's hand, and led him out of the kitchen and into their bedroom.

The End


End file.
